


Caught

by alternating



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Blackmail, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 19:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16455692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alternating/pseuds/alternating
Summary: Here's something self indulgent and morally grey that I started writing back during season one but never published. I wrote a couple of these and honestly season three is really reminding me of them, I thought someone else might enjoy them. Fisk discovers Matt's identity, allows Wesley to blackmail him instead killing him. Very noncon so mind the tags.





	1. Chapter 1

"I have to ask, I've been dying to know. Are you actually blind?" Matt froze. He hadn't expected anyone to be in the office, and the voice in the corner was definitely not Karen or Foggy.

"I... I'm sorry?"

"You heard me." The man stepped from Matt's office. "I can't imagine how you could do what you do without seeing, but you seem awfully committed to the blindness to be faking it."

The initial shock passed, and Matt could focus enough to place him. It was the man who had brought them that case- and who Karen had later told him had been on tv beside Fisk. / _ please god no don't let this be what it looks like/ _

"You should be more careful about who sees you with your mask off, Matthew," ( _ nonono of course he knows my name _ ) "people are all too willing to provide a description for an artist with... Adequate incentive." 

"I'm sorry, I don’t think I know what you're talking about." Matt's heart was racing, but he did his best to stay calm. 

The man laughed. "There's no point arguing, we have indisputable proof. DNA evidence, actually." Something rustled, a paper being held in front of his face.  Matt didn't react, and the man laughed again. It was a hollow, mocking laugh. "Either you're being stubborn about this, or you really are blind. Which one is it?" Without warning, he closed the gap between them and reached up to pull Matt's glasses from his face. Before now, he'd stayed almost entirely still, but when Fisk's man reached for his face instinct took over and he grabbed his wrist. 

The man went tense. "Wouldn't do that if I were you. If you haven't noticed by now, you aren't exactly holding any of the cards. 

"You're in my place of business, accusing me of being someone I'm not." Until he could be sure, he sure as hell wasn't going to give this man verbal confirmation that he was the man in black. "I have a few cards." 

The man roughly pulled his hand from Matt's grip. "Don't be an idiot, Mr. Murdock. You know what my employer is capable of, you have to be aware of what you risk by defying him. We know who you are, whether or not you can see the evidence, and we don't need a court of law to neutralize you as a threat. So if I were you, I would understand that it is in your best interest to listen very closely and try not to piss me off."

The words hit hard, and Matt's mind flashed back to the last man he'd heard go insane with fear of Wilson Fisk.  _ They'll kill and torture me, everyone I've ever loved or cared about... _ For Matt, that may have been a short list, but even the brief mental image of his best friend with a gun pointed at his chest was enough to make him relax his clenched fists to his sides. 

"Better." The hand reached for him again, and this time Matt forced himself to hold still as his glasses were removed. He focused- on the heat of the man's face, the calm rhythm of his breathing- anything to let him know where to point his eyes. He didn't  care that it was irrational, he didn't want this man to know this about him. His attempted illusion didn't last long, crumbling the moment the man waved a hand in front of his face. He could tell where the hand was, but the muscles of his eyes just weren't used to being controlled and he couldn't move them quickly or accurately enough to be convincing. 

"You are blind!" Matt could hear the smile in his voice, the creak of his neck as he tilted his head in what he assumed was a look of surprised happiness. "I'll be honest, I was convinced you were pretending. A man like you, putting that big of a dent in our operation..." He shook his head. "I'd ask how you did it, but I doubt you'd tell me. And besides, it's not like it will continue to be a problem." 

The man moved away, setting Matt's glasses down on Karen's desk with a soft clink. "You do understand that you will not be a problem any longer, correct?" 

Matt's fists tightened at his sides, but he didn't reply. 

"We won't stop you from being the man in the mask, of course- after all, we're both working to help this city, and your work with petty theft and muggings doesn't hurt us- but you will not interfere with any more of my employers operations. And if you do..." Something on Karen's desk was knocked over. "I’m going to pay a visit to Ms. Page personally.”

Matt almost growled as he stepped forward. “Leave them out of this, they’re not involved.”

“Well, no, they actually are. They became involved the minute you put on that mask. You brought them into this.” Matt’s gut twisted in guilt at his words, knowing they were true. “So now, Matthew, you’re going to do what I tell you to unless you want to see them suffer. You can start by handing me your phone.” Matt only hesitated for half a moment before reaching into his pocket and dropping the smartphone into his hand. He could hear him type something before setting it on the desk and heading for the door. “Keep it on you, I expect prompt responses at any time.” And then he was gone, leaving Matt alone in the suddenly too small office. He walked over to the phone, picking it up cautiously as though it might be armed, and checked his contacts. The familiar little voice alerted him of “One new message from: James.” Distantly, he could hear Foggy coming up the stairs, but he had the phone read him the message anyways. “Be at the docks tonight, in costume. My employer is eager to meet you.”

He had barely managed to stumble over to his desk when Foggy strolled in. “Morning, Matt!”

Matt couldn’t make his mouth work well enough to reply.

* * *

 

Of course he went to the docks. What else could he do? They’d trapped him just as efficiently as if they’d set up a cage for him, prodding him inside with guns pointed at the only two people who meant anything to him. At least if Fisk killed him here tonight, he would have died protecting them. 

That only managed to comfort him for about half a second, however, any illusion of things being ok shattering the moment he was close enough to get a solid picture of where he was headed. Fisk was just around the corner, along with over a dozen large men. Every instinct was telling him to climb, to hide, to just get the fuck out of there, but he couldn’t. Karen and Foggy were depending on him. 

The second he stepped out into the light, half the guns in the group were trained on him, and the heartbeats of the guards sped up. 

“It’s alright, he won’t attack.” It was his own heartbeat's turn to skip out of control when Fisk appeared behind him, huge and menacing and so much closer that Matt had expected him to be. It took all his willpower not to scamper away when a hand rested on his shoulder. “Will you, Matthew?”

Matt forced his breathing to slow. He couldn’t panic, not now. He needed to stay sharp. “Why am I here?”

Fisk moved closer still, his hand tightening on Matt's shoulder and turning him around so they were face to face. "Maybe I just wanted to meet you."

Matt scoffed. "Yeah, sure." 

He didn't quite understand why he  _ was _ here, but he could practically smell the malice coming off Fisk. The man who had been at his office was standing a few feet behind him, and he could definitely smell something more ominous from him. Hormones- his stomach twisted when he associated it with himself. 

"You're right. I've spoken to you before, I was not terribly interested in doing it again. To be honest with you, I was going to just have you killed on your way home from work. But my assistant convinced that you would be more useful to us alive, so here you are. He assures me he can keep you under control..." The smile he could hear in his voice was almost too small for him to detect. "And it looks as though he was correct. Tonight, you are here as a thank you gift to him." 

Matt could feel his heart start to race again at his words. "Wh... What?" The deeper voice he used for the devil faded for a moment. 

"Wesley has been a good assistant... And a good friend. He doesn't often ask for things, but he asked for you. So unless whatever brought you here isn't as important as he assumed it was, you belong to him now."

"You... can't do that. I'm not-" adrenaline was overwhelming him, the effort not to panic making it harder to sound in control with every word. Fisk's hand was heavy on his shoulder, pinning him in place, he couldn't move, and suddenly the hormonal smell on the man made horrible sense-

"Of course, you could refuse. If you don't want to go along with this, you'll get in that crate and be out of my city for good. We'll kill who we need to to keep this quiet, and you can live the rest of your short life wherever it's headed." Matt could hear the guards breathing, completely ready and surrounding him, and he had no doubt that if it came down to it they could force him into the crate. He had no choice. 

"If I go along with this, you'll leave my friends alone?"

"You have my word."

This couldn't be happening. He had seen so many of the people that Fisk bought and sold like cattle, but he had never fully understood what it was like. Until now. Fisk stepped back, but Matt was frozen to the concrete. His legs refused to obey him when he tried to lengthen the gap between them. The other man, Wesley, moved closer (too close). "I'll text you an address, and you will be there at four tomorrow."

"I have work then." The words were ridiculous, but they came of their own accord. 

"Too bad. Be there." Wesley turned away. "You can leave now... unless you want to stay.” Matt could hear him grinning, and he turned and walked quickly away from him and the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. 

This... This was bad. He'd gotten into a lot of trouble as Daredevil, nearly died a few times, but this was something else entirely. Between this and just taking a bullet, Matt would have chosen the latter. But unfortunately, the only bullets offered up weren't pointed at him. He wanted to talk to Foggy, to Claire, to Father Lantom, anyone who could listen, but he had to be alone in this. He couldn't put any of them in any more danger than he already had. 

He found a fire escape on the top floor of an empty building and stayed there, back pressed to the crumbing brick, until the constant hum of city noise below picked up enough to let him know it was nearly morning. He didn’t want to move even then, but he knew if he stayed someone would eventually call the cops. His limbs felt heavy, and the walk home took longer than usual. He had barely stumbled inside, just beating the sunrise, when his cell phone rang on the counter. 

_ Foggy, Foggy, Foggy, Fogg- _

“Hey.”

“Hey, just checking in to make sure you’re alive. I called you last night, you didn’t pick up. I figured it was vigilante stuff, but I figured I’d call to see if you made it home ok.” 

Matt hadn’t expected his best friend’s voice to be so incredibly comforting. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“Ok.” Foggy paused, sounding like maybe he would say more, but whatever it was he stopped himself. “Alright, I’ll see you in a little bit. Bye.”

The phone clicked off. Matt took a deep breath to calm himself before heading to get dressed for work. No sleep tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is.. kind of genuinely dark. Sorry. Definitely NSFW.

He did his best to seem calm and put together at work, although he spent the day distracted by the dark, heavy weight in his stomach. He could tell Foggy noticed something off, but he didn’t comment and Matt managed to make it until 3:30 without completely freaking out. 

“Hey, where’re you going?”

He’d waited until Karen had left to go do something, but of course Foggy looked up at just the wrong moment. “I have to go meet with someone, I should be back in a while.” He had no way of knowing when he’d be back, of course, but he didn’t want to raise suspicion

“Alright… but if you’re not back in an hour, I’m making you stay late. I’m not gonna do extra work just because you’re off saving the city or whatever.”

Matt forced a laugh and hurried out.

* * *

 

The address he had been sent wasn’t far, but he had to rush to make it before four. As with yesterday, instinct begged Matt to turn back as he approached the door, and same as yesterday he ignored it. 

He could hear Wesley inside. He was alone. They both knew Matt couldn't do shit, no matter how many people were present, and somehow the obvious display of power made him feel worse than if the room had been full of spectators. He tried the door; it was unlocked.

"Hello, Matthew. I'm glad you decided to show up."

Matt wanted to make a clever reply, try and establish some sense of control, but all his focus was on keeping his breathing even. Man without fear? He felt like he might pass out. 

"Have a seat. Would you like anything to drink?" Matt shook his head and forced himself to move to the couch across from the unnervingly calm man. It was a soft fabric, expensive feeling, but he could still feel every fiber scratching his hand as he sat down. 

He could feel Wesley’s eyes on him as clearly as he could hear him take a sip of his own drink. "You're planning on going back to work after this?"

"Yes."

"Good. I don't think it needs saying, but you are not to tell your coworkers about our arrangement. If they ask, make something up, but you will not mention my employer’s name. As far as they're concerned, your only association with him has to do with your legal work." Matt decided it would be best not to mention that Foggy knew of his late night activities. 

"Give me your hand.” Matt blinked at the sudden change in topic. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"Your hand. Hold it out." Slowly, Matt obeyed, feeling a little like he was reaching into a shoebox of spiders. Wesley grabbed his palm and pulled him closer. Something cold and metal was pressed around his wrist, tightening with a faint click. Matt pulled back quickly, out of instinct more than anything else. A quick touch found a thick metal band, fastened tightly and securely around his wrist. 

"What is it?" His voice was demanding, slightly panicked. 

"A tracker, among other things. You can't hurt or remove it, so don't bother trying."

"Other things?" 

"It can also administer an electric shock. Enough to incapacitate you, if necessary, but I doubt it will be." A shock collar, fantastic. "You should count yourself lucky,” Wesley added, “I was seriously considering a piercing instead of a cuff."

Suddenly he wasn't quite so bitter about the band. In front of him, Wesley took another drink of what smelled like very expensive wine. Matt almost regretted turning down the drink. Assistant to the most powerful crime boss in New York probably paid well.

"Have you ever been with a man, Matthew?" The sudden break in the silence, along with the nature of the question, startled Matt enough to break his composure. 

"E-excuse me?" 

"You're going to have to stop being so shocked when I say things like that. Answer the question."

"Uh, yeah. Once." He could feel the heat from his own face, and prayed the lighting was dim enough that Wesley wouldn't be able to see. 

"Unexpected. Aren't you… religious?" Matt didn't want to think about how he knew that. 

"Yes."

Wesley paused, as if expecting him to elaborate. He sighed when Matt remained silent. "Well, I'm disappointed I won't be your first, but I'll live." He shifted in his seat. Matt knew what was coming next, he could sense what Wesley wanted from the distribution of heat and the hormones rushing through him, but some big part of his brain was refusing to believe it. All this man wanted was to exert control, he wouldn't make him actually do anything-

"On your knees, Matthew."

His tone had changed. Deeper, harsher than his usual calm and commanding voice. Matt didn't move, he couldn't, he was frozen to the couch by his own fear and denial. 

"Now." Wesley pressed something on his smartphone, and Matt cried out in pain as his metal band sent out a jolt of electricity. 

_ This isn't happening this isn't happening this isn't happening  _

But it was. The wooden floor dug into his knees as Wesley approached him. His hand was still on his folded up cane, and he clung to it will all his strength to stop the shaking in his fingers. "Please don't..." The plead caught in his throat, escaping as barely a whisper. His hand raised up in a halfhearted attempt to protect himself, but it was shoved aside as Wesley grabbed his hair. It stung viciously when his head was yanked back, his eyes prickling with tears from the sudden pain. 

"I don't want you wearing these around me." His tears were suddenly exposed as his glasses were removed and tossed into the couch. "You have beautiful eyes, I want to see them." It was a small difference, especially since he was already on his knees, but immediately Matt felt a thousand times more vulnerable. He tried to tug away again. 

"Open your mouth." A zipper was undone, and he could  _ smell _ him. A small, detached region of his brain noted that at least he was clean, but the rest of him had gone numb with panic. There was a sigh when he didn't obey, but no electric shock. Just a finger, pushed past his lips to pull his jaw open. 

His own breathing was loud in his ears, the faintest whimper on each exhale, steady until he choked on the cock shoved suddenly into his mouth.

He grabbed at the fabric of an expensive suit, trying to get away long enough to take a breath, but another electric shock coursed through him and forced him to drop his hand. He would have clenched his teeth in pain had wesley's thumb not been holding his mouth open, but he got another shock for trying anyways.

Things had escalated too fast, it was too much at once. He couldn't breathe, he was choking on the cock that was doing its best to force its way into his throat, every desperate gasp of air damp with fear and pooling saliva. Lingering pain from the shock was the only thing keeping him from fighting back, reminding him that he had to sit still and let this man do what he wanted. 

If he had anything to be grateful for in this situation, it was that Wesley didn't seem to be expecting much out of him. The hand in his hair did all the work, moving him where he needed to be moved, and aside from a few jolts of electricity when he didn't keep his mouth open quite wide enough he was allowed to sit passively and let the heavy cock slide back and forth over his tongue. 

It took him about six minutes (six minutes and thirteen seconds, if the watch ticking deafeningly by his ear was accurate) to come with a groan. Wesley pulled him close, burying himself into Matt's throat as he choked and fought for breath. 

Five more ticks- five slow, awful ticks- and he finally pulled back to let Matt gasp frantically for air. 

He felt like he might vomit. He could still taste him, still feel the burn in his throat from when it'd been forced open too roughly. And he  _ hurt _ , his hair and his jaw, even his muscles ached from the repeated electrical shocks. Above him, the man laughed softly. 

"You can go back to work now. There's a bathroom in the front hall... You may want to clean up a little first." There was the sound of a zipper being fastened, and of him leaving the room without another word. 

Matt took his advice, as much as he wanted to leave immediately, and went to wash the spit and tears off his face as soon as he’d calmed down enough to focus on the ground in front of him. He couldn’t do much for his swollen lips, but he cleaned his skin and mouth the best he could and covered his eyes(still itching with tears) before finally leaving.

* * *

 

“An hour and a half, Matt, lazy-” Foggy immediately stopped his scolding when Matt flinched at the sound of his voice. “Hey, are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” Matt didn’t leave his cane by the door. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the shaking in  his hands if he let it go. Despite his reassurance, Foggy followed him into his office. 

“You sure? Cause no offense, but you kind of don’t look so hot.”

“I said I was fine, Foggy.” He could feel how dead his smile was, and his friend clearly didn’t buy it, but he also knew him well enough not to push him too much.

“Fine. Can I come in here and work with you at least? There’s some notes I want to compare.” Matt nodded, and Foggy went to go get his things. It helped, having him in there. He didn’t comment on the fact that he refused to put his cane down, just rambled on about their current case. Matt wasn’t listening, really. The background noise of Foggy’s heartbeat and voice were soothing, and there was a numbness creeping over him that he welcomed . After everything that had happened, it was a relief. It helped remind him, too, of the reason he’d chosen to let his happen. He could put up with whatever he had to, if it meant protecting this.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if there's anything you'd like to see

**Author's Note:**

> Almost done with the next chapter, which is longer and gets dark and NSFW very quickly. Comments help, and I'm very open to suggestions for this story:)


End file.
